


Follow Without Pride (Paths I Fear to Tread 1)

by CC (TAFKAB)



Series: Paths I Fear to Tread (incomplete) [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Episode Related, M/M, Romance, Series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-29
Updated: 2001-03-29
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11128749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAB/pseuds/CC
Summary: Mysterious gifts of money lead to old friends and old enemies.Author's Notes: Dedicated to Fuzzicat: thanks for the tapes!!!  Las Vegas research courtesy of Enju and Sheltie. :) Thanks also to Bunny. Extreme beta kudos go to Fuzzicat, Anne, and Pumpkin for excellent grammar, style, and plot comments and suggestions, without which this story would be much less readable. All remaining errors are purely the fault of the author.Story Notes: This story is a post-Victoria's Secret AU (or maybe an AR). In any case, it contains a divergent timeline.





	Follow Without Pride (Paths I Fear to Tread 1)

He almost threw away the first envelope without opening it. 

Nondescript block print in black ball-point ink proclaimed his name and address at the precinct, and there was no return address printed on the padded manila envelope. The postmark was smudged, but he could make out a zip-code. Later, Elaine would confirm it was a Manhattan post office. He tore it open with a sigh, not really wanting to bother with his mail but not feeling ready to start on his next case file, either. 

When he opened it and dumped its contents onto his desk, he discovered a thousand dollars in twenties and hundreds. He immediately bagged everything and sent it to Forensics. He managed to work till lunch, when they were returned with a verdict of inconclusive evidence, with the final results pending. Serial numbers turned up nothing conclusive, and neither did fingerprints analysis. It was just a random envelope full of money that made Huey and Gardino drop more than a couple of arch remarks about payola. 

Ray sat at his desk through the long afternoon, staring down at the bills on his blotter. Running them through his hands. Tucking them into their envelope and trying to forget about them so he could get some work done. Failing and getting them back out again. Finally he lifted the topmost twenty and brought it near his nose. He could still smell a faint whiff of printer's ink on it; it was fairly new and hadn't lost all of its crispness. Quietly he touched the bill to his tongue. His lashes sank shut and he sat quite still, until he knew the tremor in his hands was betraying him. Then he stood up, shoved the folded envelope in his breast pocket, and cleared out. 

The final results of the forensic analysis came through the next day. Inconclusive, except that computer enhancement indicated the letter had been mailed five days previously. Too late. Too fucking late. He put out the APB anyway and wasn't surprised when he never heard back. 

Another week, another envelope. An Orlando postmark this time. Then a week and a half, and one from Memphis. Then two days later, one from New Orleans. Three weeks elapsed, and three from LA. Nearly fifteen thousand dollars, all told. He knew what the money was for and he knew where it was coming from. It just figured Fraser would be the only person the U. S. Postal Service wouldn't steal from. Or maybe some of the envelopes were missing; there was no way to tell. In any case, he didn't give a tinker's damn about how happy it might make his banker or his family. This could not continue. 

* * *

"I'm not giving you a leave of absence, Detective." Welsh sat back in his chair, surveying Ray sharply. Ray could almost feel the Lieutenant's sharp gaze touch the dark shadows under his sleepless eyes, the hang of his coat on shoulders that had thinned visibly in the past months. He knew he didn't look like a cop on payola, not unless he was one with a helluva conscience. 

"Do I have to turn in my shield, sir?" He heard the obstinate challenge in his own tones. "I'll do it if I have to." He was already reaching into his overcoat pocket. He felt numb, like nothing could touch him now or ever would again. 

"You won't find him, Vecchio. He doesn't want you to, and you won't." The voice was unusually quiet, surprisingly compassionate. "He skipped bail for that woman and for all you know he meant to do it all along. You're just lucky that key wasn't where she said it was, or you'd have gone down." 

Ray shrugged irritably, not wanting to drag through the painful memories of the official investigation. IA had always been a burr under his saddle, but he'd never truly appreciated how miserable they could make a man until it was him in the hotseat. 

"I'm going to try, sir." Again the tone of voice, flat but defiant, aggressive and inflexible. It didn't matter whether he knew he was right or whether he knew he was wrong: he used "sir" like armor against accusations of insubordination, all the while knowing that he walked the razor's edge. There was a time when he'd enjoyed it. 

"Two weeks, detective." Welsh's voice grew gruff again, and he turned to snatch something off his inbox and pretended to go straight to work on it. Ray let himself out, closing the door quietly. 

* * *

Ray clenched his fists around the wheel of the Riv, staring down the double barrel of Interstate 57, headed south. His mind whirred relentlessly, listing facts already engraved on his brain. They'd recovered the money at the locker in the train station, so it wasn't that. The diamonds were scattered all over the sidewalk but the department even found the few that had bounced into the tracks. Metcalfe was fresh out of prison and her sister hadn't possessed many assets-- just enough to get Victoria to Benny and let her strike at him like a snake. 

So where was this cash coming from? His stomach twisted into knots as he pictured Benny holding a gun on some teller in a hick-town bank somewhere. He'd probably thank her kindly for the cash-filled sacks when she handed them over, then follow Victoria out the door like a puppy-dog. 

Dief whined from the back seat, reminding him that lunch time had been and gone. He'd made the switch onto I-80 automatically, driving like a bat out of hell and hoping that this time, his cop plates _would_ protect him-- but he'd pay any tickets he had to if it meant he could find Benny. 

Spying a McDonald's sign, he took the off ramp and ordered a couple of Big Macs and fries. He unwrapped one burger and laid it in the back seat, shaking the French fries out onto the paper wrapper. Diefenbaker nosed them, then ate without much enthusiasm. He'd seemed to know Benny was gone from the beginning, and his energy levels hadn't yet fully recovered from being shot. Ray figured it was lucky he hadn't simply lost the will to go on. 

He propped his coke against his crotch and unwrapped his burger, maneuvering back out onto the highway. He shook his head, muttering. "Left his wolf. Left his best friend. I should'a taken that shot. I should'a shot _him._ " 

That line of thought was too depressing to pursue, and he'd already followed it a thousand times at the height of the IA investigation. He wasn't sure if he could have forgiven himself for shooting Benny. 

He wasn't even sure he could forgive himself for not shooting. 

He was just lucky that IA had eventually bought his story about how he thought Benny was running to grab her and snatch her off the train. It fit with the squeaky-clean Mountie image, after all. They had decreed it plausible enough for him to have believed it of someone with Fraser's record. He wondered what they would think if he'd admitted he knew Fraser was taking off from the minute he saw the man start to run. 

Dief made a soft, mournful sound from behind him, and the rear-view mirror revealed him lying quietly, his nose between his forepaws. Ray looked at his half-eaten burger and his stomach rolled, so he jammed it back into the bag. The wolf would want it later. 

"We're heading for Sin City, Diefenbaker. Las Vegas. You're not gonna believe this place. Nobody sane believes this place." Fraser and that Metcalfe bitch had been hopping from city to city in a roughly regional pattern according to the postmark trail, and Vegas was the best place he could think of to try since the last envelopes came from LA. It was a thin thread of speculation, but it was all he had to cling to. Maybe he should have flown, but he couldn't stand the thought of putting Dief in a cage and cramming him into the hold of a plane. They both needed company too much for that. Four days' drive lay ahead of them, and they were going to make it in two. The Riv's engine roared as he drove obliquely toward the setting sun. 

* * *

Two days later, Ray rolled down the Vegas strip. It was just after sundown and a faint orange haze still lingered in the western sky. The wild parade of moving neon made it seem pale and drab by comparison. Diefenbaker stood at the window, ears pricked and nose making a smudge on the glass as he stared alertly at the tourists wandering up and down the sidewalks, the explosions rising from fenced lagoons, and all the other touristy kitsch that came with the package. 

Ray wondered idly if the wolf was comparing it to the aurora something-or-other, those northern lights Benny mentioned every so often. Then he wondered if Fraser found them lacking. The thought of Benny made Ray prick up his ears as sharply as the wolf, and he scanned the crowds as he drove, his mind clicking into gear. All right. His big gamble... now he just had to make it pay off. 

Benny was sending him a lot of money; he had to be getting his hands on it somehow. Ray had scanned countless security tapes, mug shots, and other evidence from bank heists and big-ticket robberies in the cities his mail had arrived from for several days surrounding the dates stamped on each postmark. It hadn't done any good; he hadn't seen anyone who resembled Fraser or Victoria. He drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel impatiently, waiting for a light. 

If he wasn't committing robberies, he had to be doing something else. Swindles? Ray's gut knotted up. Once he'd have thought Benton Fraser couldn't lie his way out of a wet tissue. That was before he promised not to jump bail. Now he wasn't so sure, but he still couldn't picture Benny running a con-game to swipe some poor old lady's pension and cat food money. It was a sure thing that little miss bitch wasn't funneling him the kind of cash he'd been mailing. Ray would bet his bottom dollar that given a chance, she wouldn't part with a plugged nickel. 

That left a couple of other options, including pushing drugs and-- Ray's eyes settled on a gaudily dressed young woman teetering down the sidewalk in high heels-- peddling flesh. His throat closed suddenly as a memory of Benny's face swam before his eyes, and he pulled over abruptly into a convenient parking slot, shaking. He didn't know a woman in Chicago who wouldn't be tempted to pay good money to appear in public with Benton Fraser on her arm. Hell, his own sister would probably rob a bank for the privilege. 

Easy money. 

Easy... 

Ray's throat closed, and he could feel the envelope tucked inside the breast pocket of his jacket as though it were hot as a coal and heavy as lead. 

He didn't feel like driving anymore, so he got out and fed the meter, then let Dief out of the back seat. They spent a couple of hours poking their noses into random hotels and casinos, and Ray showed a picture of Fraser to a whole bunch of people without results. 

Hot and discouraged, Ray had just decided it was time to hunt a place to stay when the wolf pricked his ears and swung his muzzle in all directions, sniffing intently. "What is it?" Ray asked wearily as Dief set out up the sidewalk at a fast trot. Ray fell in behind him, trying to squash rising hopes. Probably Diefenbaker had caught scent of a box of doughnuts in a trash basket somewhere, or some lady's fancy poodle-dog was in heat a couple blocks up the sidewalk. 

Dief threw Ray an impatient glance, still trotting. "We're looking for Fraser," Ray called irritably. "Remember him? Big guy in a red coat?" 

Dief whined low in his throat, still darting in and out between people's legs. Ray followed, rather slower. After several blocks Diefenbaker stopped, sniffing intently at a patch of sidewalk and then sitting on his haunches to wait for Ray, eyes fixed on something in the middle distance. 

Ray arrived at the corner a couple of minutes later, tracing Dief's intent stare down to the columnar facade of the nearest hotel. Bellagio. Pretty ritzy. Dief stood again and trotted forward a few steps, then whined eloquently at Ray. 

"What's so special about that place? They're not lettin' you in there," he cautioned, and Diefenbaker just turned mournful blue eyes on him, scratching at the sidewalk impatiently with one paw. "All right, all right. We'll check it out." It might not be much of a lead, but Dief's sharp nose was all he had to go on. "This better not be about some cute little French poodle!" 

They went back to fetch the car and drove up to the hotel entry. Ray left the Riv with the valet and walked along the lakeside and past half a dozen sparkling fountains to the main entrance. The subtly positioned hired goons who watched the door eyed Ray's suit, and he was pleased to see that the elegance of its cut seemed to override its travel-wrinkled appearance. He even earned a smile as he walked inside. 

Sumptuous decor. Tasteful Italian music, tasteful if a little stereotyped, trickled out of expensive hidden speakers. Ray walked over to the reception desk and met the clerk with a charming smile. "Hi. I was wondering if you've seen this man." He produced his battered snapshot of Fraser wearing the inner layer of his brown uniform and his Stetson; he hadn't been able to dig up one without the hat. 

She frowned at the picture, eyes flickering with something that might have been recognition. Quickly blanking her expression, she covered the hat with her thumb and considered it again. "Maybe. I'm not sure. He in trouble with the law?" 

Jesus, another groupie? And she probably hadn't ever spoken a word to him. Ray felt his heart leap anyway. "Nah. He's an old friend of mine, and I heard he was hanging out in town. Just thought I'd track him down and buy him a drink." He tried on another smile and a little of the famous Vecchio charm and she dimpled up at him. Maybe she wasn't totally sold on the Mountie. On the ex-Mountie. 

Apparently he'd said the right thing. "He's been in the bar nearly every evening this week. Would you like to go in and wait for him?" 

Damn right he would. Ray hesitated for a second, then palmed out his wallet. "How much for a room and is a well-behaved dog okay?" 

Still smiling, she bent to retrieve the proper form. "The pet fee is extra and you'll be liable for any damages." 

* * *

Twenty minutes later Ray's meager luggage lay next to a sulky wolf on a gaudy comforter in a $350 single occupancy room. He was in a fresh suit heading back down into the public area of the hotel and casino. He chose to sit at the bar, sipping a mineral water and trying to keep an eye on three exits at once. It wasn't as hard as it sounded, given the mirrors scattered around the room and behind the bar. 

Forty minutes later he'd turned down three propositions, one of them from a female impersonator, and was starting to get a headache from the layers of smoke drifting in the room. No sign of Fraser. 

The clerk's recommendation that he wait in the bar had only strengthened his suspicions about what Fraser was up to. Plenty of lonely people came in here to get falling down drunk but it seemed an equal number came trolling to get laid. 

The bartender plunked down another $7 mineral water and Ray forked over the money with a sigh. If he had to stay in this hotel for long he was going to wind up tapping Benny's cash, which he didn't want to do considering how it might have been earned. Maybe he wouldn't have to stay long. 

His mineral water tasted sour, almost soapy, and suddenly he couldn't tolerate another bit of it, so he pushed it away and poked more or less savagely at the lemon twist with the straw. Time to make a move before he went stir-crazy waiting. 

He fumbled out the picture again and passed it under the barkeep's nose the next time he passed. "You seen this guy?" 

This time the response was immediate. "Sure. You want him?" 

Ray paused to consider his response. "I'd like to talk to him, yeah." 

"He's expensive, but you look like you can afford it." The barkeep gave him a toothy grin that Ray did not like at all. He had to struggle not to bristle in response. 

"Whatever. You think he's gonna show tonight?" 

"He doesn't come in every night. Sometimes the pretty ones find tricks on the street before they ever get inside." The barkeep winked lewdly. Ray ground his teeth, his head aching. Trust Fraser to find a town where prostitution was legal. 

Ray heard crackling and realized it was his knuckles, the skin strained taut and white. "Whatever," he said again, and heard the thinness of his own voice keenly. He didn't like holding his temper; it didn't come naturally to him. But Vegas was a jungle, and the first law of this particular jungle was "Don't fuck with the locals." This was a class establishment and he was nobody; if he raised his voice he'd be out on his ass so fast he'd bounce all the way down the strip to the Circus-Circus. And not much chance of getting his bags or Diefenbaker out of his room first, either. 

Ray stood up, holding the barkeep's calm eyes, pushing down anger. "When he comes in tonight, or tomorrow night, you tell him he's got a client." He articulated precisely, the same flat, aggressive tone he used with Welsh, but with an extra edge beneath it. "You tell him I'll pay double what he usually gets, right? Don't tell him anything else. Then if I'm not here you call me, understood?" He scribbled his room number on a cocktail napkin and thrust it across the bar, tucking a twenty underneath for good measure. 

"Yes sir!" The barkeep brightened, and Ray turned his back on the man, stalking over to a dim corner table and slouching into the chair next to the wall. 

A shot glass brimming with amber liquid arrived a few minutes later. "Compliments of the house, sir." The waitress had more feathers in her headdress than an Indian chief. Ray eyed the drink mistrustfully for a moment, then sighed and glanced at the clock. Already after ten PM. The barkeep was right; Benny wasn't coming. 

"Run a tab," he told her brusquely, not bothering to ogle her spangle-and-feathers costume. He picked the glass up off its small square cocktail napkin and tossed back the contents, welcoming the smoky taste and the burn like a penance he'd had coming for a long time. 

* * *

He woke in the morning wondering if Las Vegas had earthquakes like Los Angeles did, but it was only the pounding in his skull and the nauseating sway of his mattress as Diefenbaker propped his forepaws on it, licking Ray's face urgently, demanding to be walked. He sat up, groaning, and held his head on top of his neck till it felt marginally less like a pumpkin that might roll off. The wolf's nails skritched on the tile in the bathroom like a progression of land-mine explosions. 

"No smart remarks about the hair of the dog that bit me," he commanded a little crossly. "And quit drinking out of the toilet. I don't want you licking me anymore!" He shut himself away in the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, which helped him feel considerably more human. Emerging, he dressed carefully and leashed Dief for his morning walk. Dief didn't much like it, but Ray subdued him with a short and decidedly Fraser-esque lecture about leash laws and animal control. 

Soon they were walking down the strip, which looked a lot seedier by daylight. The gaudy glittering lights were all replaced by gray concrete and glaring sunlight that showed all of the tawdry imperfections of the squat, ugly buildings. It was depressing and way too hot for Ray's taste. Already the sun was beating down and the morning air was probably somewhere around 88 degrees. He wondered how Fraser put up with it. 

Ray tugged Dief into an alley so the wolf could cock his leg without causing Ray considerable social embarrassment, but Dief suddenly wasn't interested, dragging at the leash urgently and sniffing frantically about the edges of the alley. He finally paused next to one wall in a relatively garbage-free space and gave Ray a look that combined misery and frustration, then lifted his head and howled. The sound echoed eerily, like the lost wail of a banshee. Above their heads, someone slammed shut a window. 

Ray went deathly still, ignoring the spike of pain in his temple. Fraser. Dief could scent Fraser, Fraser had been here in the alley. _Benny._ He waffled, indecision warring inside-- let Diefenbaker track Fraser, or sit in the Bellagio and wait for him to show up? 

The wolf pulled insistently, and Ray trotted with him back out to the strip, where he stood on point, staring northward mournfully. Ray squatted down and ruffled his ears, keeping a firm hold on the leash. "Sorry fella, but I think we're gonna need the home-court advantage. You done great though. Now we know for sure that he's been here. He'll come back." He hoped he sounded more certain than he felt, but the truth was, he _would_ feel better about meeting Benny in the hotel. Nice and public. 

Once burned, twice shy, and Ray was wise enough to know he had little chance of predicting how Benny would react to him around that Metcalfe bitch. If they were still together. Ray thought it had to be a pretty shitty version of true love that took away everything you stood for and left you hooking on the street. 

Eventually he persuaded Dief to attend to business and decided to stake out the hotel lounge. Fifty cents got him a copy of USA Today to hide behind. The wolf curled up next to his chair, mostly hidden by its bulk and the ornate end table that sat there, holding a lamp at just the right height for reading. 

After a few minutes he actually relaxed and started to pay attention to the article he was reading, but his peace was interrupted abruptly by a low, rumbling growl, and he realized with a start that it was Diefenbaker. Alarmed by the ferocity of the sound, Ray glanced under his arm, then followed the line of the wolf's stare over the top of his paper toward the door. 

Victoria. Looking as radiant and poised as the first time he'd seen her, her eyes still as deadly cold as the storm Fraser had described rescuing her from. He ducked behind his paper with casual speed. "No!" he admonished Dief under his breath, wrapping an extra loop of the leash around his wrist. The wolf subsided, but Ray could feel the tension of the muscled form next to his leg. He hoped to God the wolf wouldn't do anything stupid, because the way Victoria carefully avoided the subtly positioned metal detectors at the casino entry warned him that she was packing. If Diefenbaker knew what was good for him, he'd shut up. She'd already shot him once. 

The low growl rumbled almost below Ray's hearing as Dief tracked Victoria's progress through the building, and it sent a shudder up his spine. Finally the angle of Diefenbaker's head let Ray know she'd passed beyond his chair, and he risked a glance around the edge of his newspaper. She was standing near the restaurant, tossing her head with animation, smiling up at a man who most decidedly was not former RCMP Constable Benton Fraser. 

Ray's lips curled with contempt; he spared a moment to wish for Fraser's ability to read lips or to hear a bird blink half a mile away, but he couldn't risk letting Victoria spot him so he retreated behind the paper again. It turned out to be a good thing; after a few minutes of conversation Victoria and her friend turned to stroll out toward the street. Ray risked another glance over the paper; he could hear their voices briefly. 

"Silver Charm," the man commented, and Ray watched as he passed over a fat envelope, which Victoria tucked in her purse, nodding. "Have him bring our next prospect here at midnight, then." They exchanged a kiss, way too slow for just friends. The small resonance of their lips meeting sounded like the click of a lock. Sealing somebody's fate, probably. He just hoped it was Victoria's, not his and Benny's. 

The two parted and Victoria strode out into the brilliant flare of daylight. Her boyfriend trotted toward the stairs. Staying at this hotel, then. He was wearing a damned good suit. 

As he watched, a second man approached Victoria's friend, this one tall and burly. His suit looked like he'd been poured into it. It was badly cut, hanging unevenly at his wrists, and the seat of the trousers shone. Gnarled knuckles peeking out of his sleeves hinted at a history of violence. Victoria's friend's face froze in a false smile, a sheen of sweat visible on his forehead. The newcomer slung a heavy arm around his shoulders anyway, steering him out of view. Very interesting. 

Ray folded up his newspaper and left it on the end table, then unfastened his left cufflink and wandered over to the reception desk. 

"Pardon me, miss, did you notice the gentleman who was just standing by the pillar over there? Wearing navy Versace and Italian shoes. About six-four, 180?" 

She blinked at the concise description, then at the glittering gold cufflink in his right hand. "He dropped this," Ray explained. "I thought if you knew what room he was staying in, I could take it up to him." 

"Oh!" She flashed a hundred-watt smile. "We'll be glad to put it in his box and leave a message waiting on his voice mail." She extended her palm and Ray gave up the cufflink, glad that it wasn't his best pair. This one was only 18 carat gold, his favorites had tiny diamond studs. He smiled at her, leaning on his elbow at the counter as she punched her switchboard phone and spoke briefly, then put the link into a small envelope and tucked it under the counter. 

"Thank you kindly," he said, managing not to crack a grin, and trotted up the stairs two at a time. 

A couple of hotel employees and substantial tips later, he had a name: Martin Edwards. After that it only took a phone call to Elaine to track down a lengthy rap sheet. Robbery, con-games, extortion, high-stakes gambling... Ray ticked off each point on his scribbled notes thoughtfully. Maybe Edwards met Victoria through their mutual interest in liberating other people's money. 

In Vegas, it was a good bet he was going to try counting cards or hustling at poker. Maybe he was a card shark, planning to clean out pigeons in private gambling parties after midnight. That was when most of the heavy hitters came out to play. Edwards would look cool and intimidating in a tux with a pack of cards spread out under his manicured fingers. Ray could just see him moving in for the kill while Benny and Victoria distracted the unwitting targets with their looks and their charm and their bodies. 

Ray ordered room service, but hardly tasted it. He left the remains for Dief and split the afternoon between poring over notes he'd already memorized, flipping through boring television, drowsing fitfully, and pacing back and forth past the window, ignoring the view out into the baking heat of the long Las Vegas day. He wandered down to the bar just before dusk. Women smiled at him, apparently intrigued by his clothes and by the white wolf flanking him. Eyes turned as they would have to follow Benny, and if Ray's heart had been lighter, he would have been tempted to decide that Fraser kept the wolf around for just that purpose. 

Dief gave him an arch look, as though he could sense the disrespectful thought, and Ray reached down to ruffle his ears, scratching the soft pale fur. Entering the bar, Ray raised two fingers to the barkeep in a mock salute as he sought his table from the previous evening. He was surprised when the man came around the bar and headed over to chat. 

"Just saw that fella you asked me about. He came through the lobby, but he was with a friend and didn't stop in the bar, so I couldn't give him your message." 

"Where'd he go?" Ray was on his feet, hands clenched on the edge of the table. 

"They went back toward the stage show." The barkeep frowned. "It's early for that, though. Maybe they know one of the performers." 

"Yeah, maybe." Ray was already moving, scooping his jacket off the back of his chair. "Come on, Diefenbaker. Sheesh, I tell ya. Spend years watching every woman in Chicago-- including my own sister!-- fall at the man's feet, and now I'm still playin' second fiddle." 

A few stagehands looked at him dubiously as he burst into the quiet theater, and he glared at them, never slowing down. "Did you see a tall dark-haired guy come through here, looked like some kinda Greek god?" 

One of the guys pointed toward the side door, looking at him quizzically, and Ray plowed through it into a narrow, dingy hallway. Immediately opposite, a fire exit on the exterior wall stood ajar. Dief whined urgently, and Ray stepped up to the door, blocking the wolf with his body. He peered out through the crack, falling back on a police officer's automatic caution. 

The door opened into an alley, and a well-dressed man stood with his back to the door, but it wasn't Fraser-- he had a shock of shoulder-length silver-blond hair. His hands were braced on the brick wall in front of him and at first Ray thought he was taking a leak, but then he saw the knees on the ground between the man's spread legs, and the white silk handkerchief shielding them from contact with the filthy ground. Fingers curled around black-trousered hips. There was a wet sucking sound and a hitching moan. 

Ray nearly choked on his own tongue, flinching so hard that the door flew out of his fingers and struck the wall with a clatter. It wasn't his fault; it was Dief, the wolf's shoulder striking the door and knocking it out of Ray's hand. With a snarl, the wolf launched himself forward, barking viciously. 

Cloth ripped and a man screamed, the noise seeming ridiculous and unlikely. Ray caught a brief glimpse of a flopping condom-sheathed penis and then the man was running, Diefenbaker savaging his heels, pursuing him to the end of the alley. The man vanished, still yelling bloody murder, but Ray hardly noticed. 

Benny knelt there, his Benny, wearing a black tuxedo with satin lapels and a white tie, perched on a soiled square of silk cloth, his face turned away and his eyes averted. As Ray watched, frozen, Fraser lifted his shaking hand and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 

"Benny..." Ray's voice was jagged with shock and pain, and it seemed to spur Fraser to action. Still avoiding Ray's eyes, Fraser shoved himself to his feet and took flight down the alley, his shining black shoes scattering garbage and shattering puddles. "Fraser!" 

If anything, the call made Fraser run faster. He dodged awkwardly around the triumphantly returning Dief, who came to a stiff-legged halt and swung around to watch him in confusion, then launched himself into pursuit with a low, bewildered wail. 

Cursing, Ray flung himself out of the door, hot on their heels, but his shock had given them a long head-start. He was just in time to see Fraser throw himself into a taxi. The engine whined, accelerating the car down the road fast with Dief in hot pursuit. Ray glanced around frantically for an unoccupied cab, but there were no others; his arms fell to his sides with a defeated slap and he watched as Benny's cab took the corner west onto Tropicana and vanished. Diefenbaker vanished shortly after, a streak of white lightning. 

Ray had the cab number, but that was all. 

With shaking knees, he walked back into the alley and spied the crumpled handkerchief. He bent and picked it up, turning it over in his hands, then dropped it back onto the littered pavement. The fire exit had latched closed, so he made his way around to the front of the casino and mechanically climbed the stairs. The cab company would be a dead end, he was already sure of that. Benny knew too much to let himself be traced that way. 

He collapsed on the bed, covering his face with his hands, and lay there until a timid knock sounded on his door. Heart in his throat, he leaped up and flung it open without bothering to check the peephole... and there stood one a bellhop, Dief's leash in hand. He opened the door. 

"A man asked me to return your dog. He said it followed him in the street." She offered the leash and he took it numbly, turning it over in his hands for a long moment. He wondered why she was still there, then realized she expected a tip. 

"Thanks." He scrabbled out the first bill that his fingers touched and shut the door in her face. Dief whined, the heartbroken sound echoing Ray's own distress, and lay down with his nose at the crack of the door. 

"If that bitch is behind this, she's going down," Ray promised them both, and he meant every word of it. 

A few phone calls and his Chicago PD credentials got him a lead and less than an hour later he arrived at the Desert Springs Hospital ER just in time to watch a doctor tie the final bandage onto a rather nasty set of dog bites. Both doctor and victim turned their heads to Ray as he approached, their expressions wary. 

"Hi," Ray greeted them both, catching the john's eye. "I thought you'd be interested to hear that the animal who bit you has had all of his shots. The vaccination records are gonna be faxed here to the hospital." 

"Good." The doctor scribbled a note onto the guy's chart. "That simplifies things considerably." 

The john frowned at Ray. "You own that thing?" 

"Me? Nah. But I know the guy who does, and I recognized Dief when I saw you come outta that alley like your feet were on fire and your ass was catching, and then saw him on your tail." Ray thought it prudent not to mention the guy's state of _coitus interruptus_ at that moment-- not that he really wanted to think about it himself. "He hurt you bad?" 

"Bad enough." The john was inclined to be sulky, gesturing at the calf and ankle of his left leg. "That animal's vicious. It ought to be destroyed!" He got up painfully and reached for his pants. "Glad you found me though." The words were grudging. "I wasn't looking forward to that series of rabies injections." 

"I'll have to report this incident to the local police," the doctor cautioned Ray. "You should keep your animal leashed, sir." 

"He was on a leash. He just thought...." Ray hesitated, casting around for a tactful way of putting it. "It looked like you were attacking that guy." 

The john winced and turned crimson to the ears. 

Ray stepped further into the room as the doctor left, muttering something indistinct about not wanting to know more. "Wanna give me your business card? I'm sure the guy who owns the dog would be glad to make amends. I'll see that it gets to him." 

The john scowled. "Yeah?" 

Ray shrugged. 

"You sure you're not the one who owns it, and you're trying not to let on so I won't slap you with a lawsuit?" The words were surly, but the threat didn't feel sincere. 

"Nah." Ray decided to play his trump card. "The guy who owns that dog, see, was the fella you were with. That's why Dief went for ya. Usually he's as meek as a lamb." If you didn't count how pushy he could be when you had donuts. 

The john blinked. "Benedict owns a dog?" 

"Yeah." Ray didn't blink at the altered name. "I was looking for him, but when I realized you two were..." he cleared his throat "...occupado, I wasn't gonna try to cut in, you know what I mean? Then while I was waiting for you to finish up..." he shrugged eloquently. "Benedict doesn't keep Dief with him most of the time. I guess you can see why." 

"Yeah, I can. Look, tell Benedict I said to muzzle that thing, and I'm not gonna make the poker game tonight, okay?" He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small brochure emblazoned with the Bellagio logo and handed it to Ray. "This is the ticket he gave me to get in. Could you get it back to him for me?" He flushed. "I'd rather not give out my business card if that's all the same to you." 

Ray nodded as he stashed the brochure and the ticket it held in his breast pocket next to Benny's envelope full of money. He understood the guy's reluctance. "Yeah, well, whatever you want." 

The john fumbled in his pocket, dragging out a transistor radio and clicking it on. "Thought I was going to miss the pre-race show," he muttered, turning the tuning knob. An announcer's voice babbled tinnily amidst considerable static, and a couple of the words caught Ray's ear. He stopped, frowning. 

"Pre-race show? What race is that?" 

"The Preakness." 

"Silver Charm's ranked at three-to-one?" He lifted his brows, considering. "My man, I would advise you to wager on that animal," Ray offered generously, then let himself out. 

Benedict. It didn't take a genius to figure out the significance of that particular alias. If he was billing his last name as Arnold, Ray was going to have to kill him. 

* * *

The maids had been and gone and the message-waiting light was flashing on his phone when he returned to the hotel, and he flipped on the TV, scanning till he found the race, and kicked up on the single, neatly-made queen-sized bed to call the front desk. 

"You received a call from a Miss Elaine Besbriss, sir. Shall I ring the number she left and transfer it to your room?" 

"Yeah," Ray agreed and put the phone back down. Moments later it rang and he picked it up. "Elaine, hey! What you got for me?" Inexplicably he was feeling better, even optimistic, after discovering part of what Victoria was up to. The ponies were heading toward the starting gate, and he kept half an eye on the TV. 

"The guy you asked me to run a sheet on... one of your unofficial sources turned up some extra info. He's welshed on a couple of big gambling debts in the last few months, Ray. There are half dozen loan sharks and kneecappers after him, all with mob connections, and the scuttlebutt says they're going to take him and his partners out soon if he doesn't hit it big and make his payoff." 

"Wow," Ray commented inarticulately. "Rumors down here have it he's got money on Silver Charm in the Preakness." 

"Odds?" 

"Three to one." Ray reached into the bowl of complimentary mints on the dresser and popped one in his mouth. 

"At those odds, it'd probably take more capital than he's got to put enough on the horse to pay off all his creditors." Ray could hear keys clicking on Elaine's computer. "Maybe he's playing a double wager?" 

"Or maybe he's trying to earn a stake and make up the deficit at the tables." Ray knew enough from watching his dad play the ponies to figure a major race like the Preakness was tough territory to make a really big win-- the horses were all so good you couldn't count on guessing which long shots might place. Edwards needed money and he needed it yesterday. 

"What have you got up your sleeve, Ray Vecchio?" Elaine's voice tightened with anxiety. He wondered how much she'd guessed of his reasons for being in Vegas. "You want me to call the Las Vegas PD, arrange you some backup?" 

"Nah." Ray felt his brow tighten in a frown. He couldn't risk that, not till he had a better idea how to get Benny clear. "I can handle it, Elaine. Thanks." 

"Ray..." her voice went quiet. "This has something to do with Benton Fraser, doesn't it." She hesitated, her voice low and sympathetic. "Watch yourself, Ray." 

Ray's mouth twisted with pain. Yeah. The whole department knew how he'd stood frozen, not able to shoot Victoria Metcalfe for fear of wounding the Mountie. They knew how he'd watched that fucking train out of sight, wandering to the end of the platform and just standing there staring into the night as snow started to fall, swirling onto the shoulders of his overcoat, melting on his face like tears. They all knew about the IA hell he'd gone through after Benny ran. 

"I'll be in touch, Elaine." Ray hung up before she could give him any more well-intentioned warnings and turned up the race, which had started while he was still on the phone. Silver Charm was near the center of the pack at the first turn and running well, not flat out, with energy to spare. 

Ray watched, familiar tension gathering in him. He'd first known this particular thrill when he was a kid and his dad had taken him to the track; even though he didn't have money on this race it didn't change the adrenaline rush that tracked through his frame and set his nerves on edge. Nor did it change the sick feeling of knowing how many people had staked their futures on this race, and would lose them. 

He sighed and broke away; watching wouldn't change which horse won. The sounds of the track soured his stomach with more bad memories. He joined Diefenbaker, who was standing at the balcony doors, staring wistfully out across the hotel's artificial lake into the city haze. Behind him the announcers roared and hooves pounded. "Silver Charm's coming up fast... and in the homestretch, it's Silver Charm... Silver Charm wins!!!!" 

Ray nodded. Edwards was lucky, or maybe the fix was in. Either way, his fate was going to come down to a contest of luck and skill on the tables tonight. 

His hand slipped into the lapel of his jacket, where the envelope holding Benny's money still rested in his breast pocket. Much as he hated to, he was going to have to use it for a stake in whatever big game Edwards was playing. It was his only viable lead for figuring out what was going on and then levering Benny out of it. Assuming he wanted to be rescued. Whether he did or not, Ray needed closure. 

There were preparations to be made, and after ordering lunch Ray set out to make them. The Via Bellagio had plenty of classy shops, including one that sold formal men's wear. He got fitted for a tux and selected matching shoes, ordering alterations and grimly signing over the fat total. 

His stomach grumbled as he walked out, so he tracked the scent of oregano and garlic through the sultry afternoon toward dinner, mouth watering. The hell with expense. After being seated he ordered some broiled fish and pasta with marinara sauce, nothing too heavy. A carafe of good white wine filled his belly with warmth and loosened the knot of tension growing in his nerves. 

Too full for dessert, he pushed his chair back and tossed his napkin on the table. There were still four long hours till midnight. 

The restaurant buzzed with pleasant conversation, couples sharing the romantic lighting and fine food. As Ray sat back to sip his after-dinner coffee, an unexpected pang stabbed through him, surprising him not by its presence but by the person it attached to. He'd grown used to solitude in the years after his marriage ended. He knew the bittersweet melancholy of watching lovers share romance and regretting that he had no one. But this time his first thought had been of Benny, not Ange. 

He shook himself, but failed to dispel the blue study. Ray's loneliness was probably just a pale shadow of the feelings that sent Benny running after Victoria's train. That was the one thing that had sustained him through the IA investigation, the uncertainty and despair. It had finally given him the will to embark on this last-chance search. 

Ray knew there was something deep inside Benny that he never spoke about. He pressed it down and tried to hide it from everyone, but Ray had seen it flicker behind his eyes many times. He'd never given it free rein in front of Ray, but Victoria had unleashed it inside him. The look in his eyes as they prepared the trap for her had been desperate and needy, frantic and all but maddened with pain. Ray understood the isolation that goodness and duty imposed on him-- he'd seen it. He could imagine Benny's horror of continuing alone with that gnawing void concealed deep inside him and the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

That kind of pain was something that Ray, with his large and loud family, could only glimpse, and he thanked God for that. The Vecchio family might bicker constantly and scratch at each other like caged cats, but underneath it all was love. He had his sisters, he had his mother, he had nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles to fight with and to care for and to take care of him when he needed it. 

Ray had a hollow space of his own that helped him understand Fraser, though: his own father's disapproval, his emotional remoteness, and the absence of resolution between them when the old man died. He knew how it cut to the bone when your old man gave you the back of his hand, either literally or through absence. That wound cut wide and deep in Fraser, and it hadn't been partly healed by the love and support of family. 

Tied up in the conventions of properly macho camaraderie, Ray hadn't been emotionally available to provide enough support for him. It wasn't manly to share feelings, and it had cost Benny dearly. It was no wonder he'd fixated on the bitch. Benny had soul and a big heart and you had to give those things away constantly in order to keep them, but after a lifetime of giving to every stranger you met and getting precious little in return... 

Benny had finally scraped the bottom of the barrel and come up empty. He'd turned to the wrong woman, one who wouldn't-- or couldn't-- give back enough of what he gave to her. But being Benny, he just kept on giving because he didn't know how to do anything else. He didn't know how to step back and do what was good for him. He'd confused Victoria's presence and her body with getting what he needed out of life and love and now he just couldn't give it up, no matter how much it hurt... 

Ray remembered that cycle all too well from his last year with Ange. But he'd had the strength and the support to let her go. He hadn't let losing her destroy him. 

He stared at his empty coffee cup, depressed. _God, too much wine._

Ray pulled it together, paid his check, and went to fetch Dief for a walk around the lake that took up an hour. The lights sparkled in the fountains. The path was curved and soothing, with pools of light and shadow gathering at intervals. Before he finished his second winding circuit, he spied another lone walker idling not too far in front of him, and he dropped back. Female, long brunette curls. 

As they rounded a curve in the lake, the wind shifted and Dief sniffed deeply; he growled low in his throat, verifying Ray's guess. Ray fell back again, blending into the fringes of a group of strolling tourists. Victoria wore a tight black velvet cocktail dress, and if she had a weapon, it was probably concealed in her purse. She trotted up the steps into the hotel, and a man in black moved out from behind a column and joined her. Edwards. 

"I don't like the looks of this, Dief." Ray killed time until they vanished into the hotel together, then waited another five minutes for good measure before hustling Diefenbaker inside. "Sorry, but you can't go gambling with me tonight." He fastened the wolf into his room, paced nervously for a minute, then decided the hell with it and took off down to the lobby. 

Victoria and Edwards were in the bar, sitting at a table with... Fraser, and another man. Ray's heart leaped into his mouth and he froze, unable to move. Fraser's smile looked tight and inauthentic, though he was giving the john his full attention. Victoria sparkled, smiling between the both of them with a viciously maternal air that turned Ray's stomach. She rose and patted Fraser's shoulder without fondness, then sashayed off toward the powder room. 

Fraser and the john stood too, and emerged from the bar, moving toward the casino. Ray turned his back and knelt down to tie his shoe; they passed within inches of him. "I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to accompany you this evening, Tom." Fraser was speaking quietly as they passed, polite as ever, but to Ray his voice was flat and unenthusiastic. Tom didn't seem to notice, smiling at him, eyes dark and predatory. Ray realized that his fists were clenched and itching to connect with something, preferably Tom's lantern jaw. 

He had a lot to think about, and blind unreasoning fury wasn't helping. Ray started to stand, then heard a feminine gasp from behind him. "Excuse me," he began politely, but above the nice set of legs attached to the gasp, he found a black velvet hemline, and above the rather nice body covered by the velvet were furious eyes in a familiar face. 

"Good evening, Miss Metcalfe. And I thought it always took ladies half an hour whenever they went to the powder room." Ray brazened the confrontation out coolly. 

"I thought I recognized you. There can't be two men on earth with noses that ugly," she hissed. "What the hell are you doing here, Vecchio?" 

No love lost there. Never had been. "I'm here to take my chances, just like everyone else," he drawled in his best insolent tone, standing again. "And yourself? Maybe you just enjoy watching a man destroy what little he has left of his pride and dignity." He smiled falsely as her cheek twitched with fury, momentarily spoiling her icy beauty. Her hand clutched tight on her evening bag, then released: a sure sign she had a weapon stashed inside. 

"You pimping Benny yourself?" Ray kept his tone evenly insulting. 

Her cheeks went white with rage. "Stay away from him, or I really will ruin you this time." 

"It's what you do best," Ray agreed, falsely pleasant smile widening. "Look, obviously Benny's busy, right? Lemme buy you a drink." 

Her eyes glittered as she shook her head, mouth tight with loathing. 

"Oh, so you wanna keep your head clear for the big game." He nodded sagely. "I hear Silver Charm won this afternoon. Guess you already have a celebration planned, right?" 

She searched his face, a touch of fear in her eyes. Fine-- let her wonder where he got his information. "And I can count on you to join in?" she bit out, and Ray nodded. 

"'Fraid so." 

"So you're not going to arrest me?" She crossed her arms nervously, revealing for another split instant the vulnerability in her that Ray knew Benny found so compelling. 

"We'll see about that," Ray felt malice but genuine pleasure behind his smile now. "Maybe I won't need to, huh? Gambling has a price. Maybe somebody else is gonna take care of you for me." 

"If I go down, so does your precious Benny." She jerked her bag against her body and flowed past him into the casino, her heels snapping crisply against the floor. 

She was like a snake, all sinuous cold-blooded venom. He'd be damned if he could understand why Fraser had picked _her_ to let into his heart and his bed. Guilt, probably, and survivor syndrome. It didn't matter now, it was a done deal. 

Ray settled in front of a slot machine where he could keep an eye on Victoria as she glided through the gaming tables. Her sweet smile almost never failed to dazzle the men she spoke to-- always men sitting behind several tall stacks of red, white, and blue chips. Trolling for pigeons. Ray jerked the handle of the two-dollar slot irritably. Lemon, bar, cherries. Typical. Tom's hand resting lightly on the small of Fraser's back as they bent over a roulette wheel. Atypical. Enraging. 

The hands of the clock crept slowly around. Ray caught sight of Edwards striding through the lobby and abandoned his machine. He felt adrenaline-charged and jittery; falling in behind their small procession he shook himself, loosening joints and mind for the task at hand. Victoria shot Ray a glare of pure loathing as she took Edwards' arm and walked toward the private salle. 

Ray joined the line about three people back, signed in, and exchanged his cash for chips with the house logo imprinted on them. He tucked them into the deep pockets of his tux and sauntered in. Three red-jacketed casino employees manned the room, one tending the small bar, one at the door, and one putting the finishing touches on the table. The barkeep and the dealer spoke to one another quietly; they would both be dealers and spell each other out in the interests of fairness. 

Those red jackets reminded him a little of Benny. He set his jaw. If he had his way, Benny'd be back in that red jacket in no time, knock wood. 

* * *

Ray stepped forward and produced his ticket; the dealer let him through. Victoria glowered at him nastily; Benny blinked and then turned to the bar. The amber liquid in the glass Fraser took didn't look a helluva lot like a Shirley Temple. Victoria fixed Benny with a warning stare that he avoided, his face showing all the impassivity of a stuffed moose. 

Ray took the empty seat opposite from Edwards and sat calmly, waiting for the rest of the party to arrive. He kept Benny in sight out of the corner of his eye. Fraser looked stiffer and more awkward than Ray had ever seen him, steadfastly avoiding his eyes. Tom touched Benny's shoulder possessively, then sat down at the table while Fraser moved back to join Victoria near the center of the salle. The two of them did not speak, respecting personal space boundaries carefully. Ray's heart ached for Benny even as his stomach twisted at the thought of his friend on his knees in that stinking alley. 

The last few players wandered in close together and sat down. One was an older woman, garish in too much makeup, but the diamond choker around her neck looked real, and so did the gold rings on her fingers and the pearls set in her earlobes. There was a younger couple, very well dressed and looking comfortable with the situation and their wealth; a Japanese businessman; and a middle-aged Texan, resplendent and foolish in a ten-gallon cowboy hat. Too ostentatious to be old money, but probably a hell of a lot wealthier than Ray. Maybe his income came from oil. 

The dealer slapped the cards at his left, signaling the beginning of the game, and desultory chatter around the table quieted. Ray anted up, wincing at the hundred-dollar minimum, and sat back as the dealer started dealing a hand of seven-card stud. Plenty of opportunity to raise. 

He sat back, cupping his cards in his hand below the edge of the table as they came to him, determined to play conservatively till he got a feel for the table and the other players. 

Two hands. Three. Four. Edwards played dispassionately and well, winning and losing with a perfect poker face. He handled the cards with disheartening expertise. In the eighth hand, three of a kind won back enough for Ray to break even. Edwards won small amounts steadily, but nobody got hot. They sat back during a lull, and Tom sighed, stretching, and motioned Benny to step over. Fraser moved up behind him and leaned down to listen to his whisper. Motion caught Ray's eye: Victoria moving so that she had an unblocked view of the two men, clutching her purse. 

_Well, how touching. She cares._ Ray felt his lips curl with contempt. 

Tom closed his hand over Benny's wrist, fingers disappearing beneath Benny's sleeve. Ray hid his white-knuckled fists under the table, disturbed by the subtle sensuality. He averted his eyes, catching sight of Victoria again-- and was puzzled by the triumphant quirk of her rosebud mouth as she tucked her purse under her arm and stepped back, eclipsed by the crowd. 

Sighing as the break ended, Ray tossed in his ante. He would have given a lot to have Benny's keen eye for detail and his ability to read subtle signs and find liars. He'd held his own so far, but he wasn't anywhere near cleaning anybody out. 

Ray checked Victoria again warily. She stood against the bar sipping from a highball glass, looking a little impatient. Fraser stood against the wall where he could watch both Tom's and Edwards' cards if either man slipped up and let their hands stray outside the shield of their bodies. Not that they seemed likely to do so. 

The vantage point also gave him a direct line of vision to Ray's face. Ray lowered his eyes deliberately, plastering on a frown of deep concentration as cards slid across the green baize toward him, and sure enough, Benny took the chance to look. He picked up the cards, staring down at them while focusing on his peripheral vision, and felt his stomach do an odd little lift and jump as those wounded eyes followed him intently. When he looked up Benny was already looking away, as though watching the dealer's hands. 

Victoria sidled up to Fraser and laid her palm against his arm, steering him away for a moment, and he went meekly, like the puppy dog Ray had envisioned he'd wind up becoming. She spoke to Fraser sharply but too quietly to be overheard, then departed. Oh, great. Now he had to worry about Dief in addition to everything else. 

He played poorly after that and lost about six thousand dollars. Cursing himself silently after his umpteenth glance at the door, he wrenched his attention back to the cards he was holding. Guts-nothing. Ray folded immediately. 

Tom showed two queens and Edwards showed a pair of sixes, but Edwards won that hand anyway with a full house, taking in a tidy five grand. Ray sighed, wondering how much more he needed to pay off his bets. Edwards was up by about fifty thousand, but God only knew how much he needed to cover his losses. 

The Japanese man left the table after that. Smart guy; he was down thirty grand and it was time to cut and run. He bowed politely as the velvet rope opened and walked out calmly. Ray wanted to cut and run too; he had a feeling he was spinning his wheels for nothing. The real action had to be wherever Victoria was. He was definitely outclassed here. Edwards could clean his clock in a hurry if he stopped trying to clean out the fattest pigeons first. 

Fraser spoke to the bartender, ordering himself and Tom each a cocktail. The sound of his voice and the incongruity of Fraser drinking liquor struck Ray unexpectedly. He sat still, staring at his pile of chips to mask the pained emotion on his face. Benny. On his knees in a dirty alley, lips swollen and shiny with moisture. That perfect cupid's bow touched the lip of a glass, curving around its shape softly.... Ray realized where he was looking and jerked his head away, feeling his ears burn. 

Tom leaned across the now-empty seat that separated them, smiling with exaggerated politeness. Ray noticed the pinkie ring he wore, a horseshoe of gold with tiny diamonds catching the light. "His services are quite reasonable, considering." 

The whisper carried over an unexpected lull at the table. Ray glanced automatically at Benny's stiff-shouldered form, and then at Edwards' cold smirk. Damn it, Benny didn't belong in this pack of sharks. 

Ray sat back, idly tapping a $500 chip on the edge of the table. He knew his response was crucial, if there was still anything left of Benny to reach. "Money doesn't mean anything to me." He lifted his eyes to seek Fraser's troubled blue ones, which met his for the first time. "Benny does." 

"Is that why you offered the barkeep twice Ben's usual fee, Vecchio?" Victoria was back from wherever she'd vanished to. She laughed, a sound as brittle as crystal. Everyone watched Ray, ignoring the polite cough of the dealer, who clearly wanted to resume the game. 

It was a hard hit; Benny looked away, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

"Ante up," the dealer spoke with a little urgency in his voice. Ray tossed the red chip into the center of the table and received four white hundreds in return. 

"I thought maybe you loved him as much as you hated him. Guess I was wrong." Ray peeked at his first hole card. A three. "I'm sorry I was wrong. For his sake." 

The other players exchanged uncomfortable glances. 

The incident completely disrupted the tone of the game, and people began to trickle away. When Tom pushed back from the table, Edwards folded his cards with a sigh and pulled out a cigarette. 

"Shall we go elsewhere in search of entertainment, Benedict?" Tom inquired coolly. "There's a late show at the Tropicana." Benny nodded once and Tom led him away. 

Ray couldn't draw in enough breath; he felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "Jesus, Benny." He hadn't meant to speak aloud, but Fraser's flinch meant he'd been heard. Benny didn't turn. In less than a minute, he was gone. 

Ray bulled his way out of the gate and past Victoria, nearly mindless with disappointment, bile bitter on his tongue. The taste of failure. 

He was going to have to come up with a better plan. 

"He's mine," Victoria hissed, getting right up in his face. "Get it straight, Vecchio." 

The hell with subtlety. "I promised you I'd kill you if you hurt him." Ray stared down at her coolly. "I keep my promises." 

Edwards eyed him balefully, speaking before Victoria could form words. "You're out of your league, detective." 

"So are you," Ray spat, and left without looking back. 

Dief sniffed him thoroughly and anxiously when he returned to the room. As far as he could tell, the place hadn't been tossed... what _had_ Victoria been up to? He stripped for the shower, the wolf nosing over his clothes, probably smelling Fraser. 

He scrubbed himself clean of sweat and smoke, trying and failing to block out unbidden images of what Benny might be doing now. It made him see red, thinking of Tom's hands sliding over Benny's passive, miserable body. 

Nobody'd ever loved Benny. That's why he thought what he had with Victoria was all he could have, that's why he'd let her do this to him. 

Ray stepped out and toweled himself off. Involuntarily he pictured Benny's pale, sturdy body and Tom's hands, with that diamond horseshoe pinkie ring shining obscenely as it wandered over Benny's chest, his hips. How the hell was he supposed to rest knowing that Benny was in some fucking stranger's bed, passionless, making the man who'd paid for him moan? Torturing himself, whoring himself out, all out of some crazy slavish obsession with Victoria, out of some crazy need to punish himself. 

Better if Benny was with Elaine. Better Francesca, even. Hell, it'd even be better if it was Huey or Lieutenant Welsh! Ray toweled his head fiercely. Yeah, it'd be better if it was them. At least those guys cared about Benny. Guys. Benny with a guy. He couldn't think about this. 

"Come on, Diefenbaker, we're going for a walk." Ray yanked on loose trousers without bothering with underwear and tugged a sport-shirt over his head. He rolled on socks with savage motions and shoved his feet into comfortable shoes. 

The strip sang with activity even this late, but he'd never felt more alone even amidst the teeming crowds of college kids and yuppies and families out on vacation. There was something huge and strange thumping in his pulse, weighing heavily behind his eyes, and he already knew it wasn't just his fear that he was going to lose tomorrow. It was more than that. It felt like the last element of a case ready to click into place but just not coming. 

Dief trotted ahead of him and he followed mindlessly, trusting the wolf's guidance. That ring echoed in his vision over and over again, the way it would move, the way it might catch a few strands of dark brown hair and pull them free, the way it might mark pale flesh with a blow or a tight grasp. 

A passing woman looked at him with fear in her eyes. She gave him a wide berth as they passed on the well-lit sidewalk, and realized how he must look. Short hair dried any which way, face haggard and with circles under his eyes, muttering to himself in distraught tones. 

This was way under his skin. He'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop for months, all worked up. It wasn't about bringing Victoria to justice or punishing her for what she'd done, sweet as that thought was. It was about getting Benny back and fixing the harm that had been done to him and showing him he was worth better than that. 

Benny'd once told him that if you lose yourself, you have nothing. Like a grim prophecy of his own doom. Maybe even then he'd sensed it coming. 

Ray had never realized how empty his own life would be without Benton Fraser's presence in it. 

He stopped and slouched on a bench, rubbing his aching eyes. Diefenbaker came back to sit at his feet and whined, nosing at his arm. "Pretty empty for you too, huh?" Ray patted the wolf's head. A soft echo of piano and soprano song filtered out of the nearest building, the lyrics terribly sad. 

He reached for Dief, scratching his ears moodily. "God, I need sleep. I'm turning into some kinda basket case here." 

"You can say that again." 

Ray turned a weary head to find his father leaning against the nearby lamppost. "Go away, pop." 

"I can't believe you mortgaged my house for that faggot." 

"Shut up about the house. It's not your house anymore, OK?" Ray knew he looked like a madman, sitting there babbling to thin air. "And Benny's no faggot." 

"No? Well what the hell is he then?" 

There wasn't a good answer for that. Ray sighed, scruffing his palm over his thinning hair, trying to get it all to lie in the same direction. 

"He's a faggot and he lied to you. He used you. And you come all the way down here to bust your balls for him after what he did? You're not my son!" Ray's father crossed his arms, polyester shirt squeaking unpleasantly against his cheap leather jacket. 

"That's the best news I've had all day!" Ray exploded. "And don't make slurs against Ma." 

"You should go home and leave him," Vecchio Senior snapped. "He left you in the lurch to go off with that woman, didn't care what happened to you. He made his bed. Let him lie in it!" 

"Benny did care. Does care." The weight of the envelope in his pocket thumped against his ribs as he flung his arms out, reassuring him that he was right. "He wouldn't've sent me that money if he didn't care." 

"Guilt." His father waved a dismissive hand. 

"You know what I like most about you, pop? The way you can always make any bad situation seem a whole lot worse," Ray muttered sourly and rose, motioning to Dief. The wolf stopped sniffing around the trash can at the end of the bench. 

"Just where are you gonna draw the line, Ray?" His father appeared in front of him, blocking his path. "Think about that. Where does it end? You gonna let him use you like she used him? You gonna bend over and let him fuck you up the ass? You think he'll leave her for that?" 

"Get the fuck outta my way." Ray shouldered past his father rudely. "If I do, it's all my business and none of yours." Ray didn't pause to see if the apparition was still around to hear his parting shot. Instead, he set a brisk pace back to the hotel, fell into bed still wearing his shirt and slacks, and slept rather better than the dead. 

* * *

The sun was past noon when Ray finally stirred, more in response to Diefenbaker's plaintive whining than to the soft knocking on his door. He peered blearily through the peephole and drew back, blinking, before yanking the door open so suddenly that Benny was still standing with his knuckles poised to rap when Dief flung himself forward impatiently, catching Fraser amidships. Benny's arms went around his wolf reflexively, and Dief wriggled madly, licking his face in frantic, earnest greeting. 

"It's about time you showed up. Get in here!" Ray tugged Benny through the door by the sleeve, ignoring the wriggling bundle of wolf currently occupying Fraser's arms and attention. 

Fraser half-knelt and set Dief on the floor, hesitantly reaching out to tousle his fur, then his arms slid around Dief's ribs and he held the wolf close, cheek to silky fur, eyes shut tightly. Diefenbaker whimpered ecstatically, tail thrashing like a lapdog's. 

"He's missed you," Ray commented quietly. "We've all missed you, Benny." 

Fraser gave no indication he'd heard Ray for a long moment, still holding Dief, his thumb stroking over the patch where his fur was still too short from having been shaved during the surgery to extract Victoria's bullet. His expression metamorphosed to pain, and he raised himself to stand, giving the wolf a final, lingering pat. 

"You shouldn't have come, Ray. It would be better for everyone if you just went home." His voice was husky with pain. 

Ray just shook his head. "Victoria sent you up here to tell me this?" he asked harshly. 

"No, although she wouldn't disapprove. She and Martin would both prefer it if you were absent from tonight's game, Ray. They are aware that you do not have sufficient money to make it worth their while for him to play against you. They would prefer that a more... well-heeled pigeon... have your seat." 

Ray shook his head, smiling humorlessly. "Sounds like you've picked up a whole new lingo, Benny." His eyes rested on Fraser's broad, strong hands, which looked awkward and restless clasped before his body, bereft of the brim of a hat to give them purpose. "Tell me. What's going on? Why are you doing this? You don't have to do this, Fraser." 

"Ray..." Fraser shook his head in frustration. Moving to the balcony he pushed the shades apart and looked out into the glaring summer afternoon. The light silhouetted him, flattering him as always, and Ray noticed the jeans and the simple knit polo shirt he wore, both a little worn. Fraser's voice continued, gentle and sad and curiously flat. "I was relieved to hear that IA was forced to close the case against you for lack of evidence. I regret the damage that my... dereliction has caused to your career." 

"Things would've gone a lot worse for me if they'd found that key where she said it was, Benny," Ray said quietly. "If you hadn't switched them on her, I'd be doing hard time." 

Fraser nodded. "That was the last thing I ever did right." His voice was almost inaudible. 

Ray shook his head, compassion momentarily stealing his voice. "I don't think so, Benny." Fraser's throat made a small noise of protest, but Ray pressed on. "You've been trying to make things right ever since you were gone. What else do you call sending me envelopes full of money almost every week? You're just..." Ray swallowed hard, trying not to think of how Fraser had earned that money. "You're just confused, that's all. You made a bad decision. It happens to everybody." Even as the words left his mouth, he knew how lame they sounded. 

Fraser's mouth went tight. He shook his head, his jaw working, his eyes suspiciously bright, and Ray laid a hand on his shoulder. "I really hoped things were gonna work out for the two of you, when you hopped that train." Ray confessed quietly, staring into the city rather than at Benny's pain-wracked face. "It was the money thing, wasn't it. She left the last of that cash in the bag from the locker as evidence against me, and you dropped the diamonds on the tracks. You didn't have any money." 

Benny nodded absently, biting at his lip. "I didn't have my green card in my wallet, and even if I had, I was a wanted man. I couldn't get honest work. I..." he hesitated, shaking his head. "I don't think she would have been satisfied with the wages I could have earned in any case, Ray." 

"So you sold yourself." Ray shook his head. 

"It seemed the only solution, Ray." Benny's words sounded hollow. "At first it was simple escort work. I did not find it irksome. But then... Victoria has debts, Ray. I had to help her pay them." His eyes pleaded for understanding. 

Ray tried to keep bitterness out of his own voice. Fraser was feeding himself a line of bullshit. Ray wondered how many times he'd had to repeat it before he started to believe. "You said you felt like you knew her forever, but you found out you didn't know her at all, am I right?" 

Fraser seemed to shake himself out of the reflective mood. "Victoria is... driven. I believe she loves me, Ray, but she is a pragmatist. And when untoward circumstances arise... then I can be at my most helpful." 

"You mean, she forgets she loves you the minute she wants something, and she threatens not to love you anymore unless you do whatever she wants." Ray frowned when Benny didn't contradict him. "You said she had a darkness inside her," Ray remembered what Benny had once confided that to him. 

"And there is a darkness in me," Fraser finished soberly. Again his hands seemed to crave something to hold, but settled for lacing together instead. "It's too late for me, Ray." 

Ray could only guess what the abrupt, hoarse words had cost his friend. "Damn it, Benny!" He exploded, catching Fraser's shoulder and forcing him to turn to meet his eyes. "You aren't like them. It's not too late for a second chance." 

Pain flashed across Fraser's face again, pain and a moment of remote memory. "Ray..." he hesitated, his eyes dropping to study the toes of his boots. 

"Benny." Ray reached for Fraser's shoulder again, only to drop his hand when he drew back. "Sorry. Look... you're being too hard on yourself here." He reached for words, hoping they would be the right ones. "Okay, so you've done some stuff you aren't proud of. I've done things too. Everybody has. We gotta learn from our mistakes, Benny. Not let them defeat us, okay?" 

Benny paced away from him, examining the fake-gilt frame of a painting on the wall. "I've done too much, Ray." Fraser's voice sounded hollow. 

"You know what your problem is?" Ray felt confident suddenly, the set of Fraser's spine speaking to him without words. "You've got too much pride to forgive yourself, Benny. You see things all in black and white. You made a mistake, yeah, but then you condemned yourself for it. And you couldn't cut yourself enough slack to take it back and start over. So you gave up on yourself and you stopped trying. You let her push you around, make you do stuff you didn't wanna do. Hell, maybe you even played into it. You feel like a martyr, Benny? Does it feel good to punish yourself for not being the perfect person your father decided you had to be? Do you like punishing yourself because you can't fix Victoria and make her the woman you need?" 

Ray realized he was breathing hard, and he understood that the stiffness of Fraser's shoulders came from anger now. But he wasn't done, and he couldn't leave things like this. He'd only reinforced Fraser's defeat, not shown him what a pointless thing it was. "Well guess what, Benny? I'm not the guy my father wanted me to be either. And you know what? I don't give a rat's ass what he'd think." 

He shook his head, pacing behind Fraser's stiff, uncommunicative back, his hands flying free as words poured from him. "So you wanna think you're worthless, scum of the earth, beyond hope, whatever. Well guess what? You're still good, Benny. You went out and did something really gutsy and it went bad. But you made the best out of it you could. You're servicing guys just to try to keep a bunch of Mafia loan sharks from landing on Victoria like a ton of bricks when you know she's got it coming. You sent me money to pay on my mortgage after you skipped bail. You're still polite, you're still helpful, hell, you're even neat and tidy like you always were. You come in here and try to get me to go home for my own good because you know those sharks are gonna eat me alive at the poker table tonight." His rigid forefinger jabbed at Benny's shoulder. 

"You've done all those things, Benny. So if you wanna spend the rest of your life lying to yourself about how bad you are and punishing yourself just because you wanted to be loved and you needed to be free...." Words ran short suddenly, and pain hitched in Ray's chest. "Are you free now, Fraser? Are you loved, are you happy?" It was all he could think to ask. "Is it more than it was before, is it better? Look really deep and answer me that. If you can honestly tell me yes, I'll be out of here so fast..." the promise hurt, cutting bone-deep. 

Fraser stood silently, eyes riveted to the picture, as still and solemn as though he were standing guard duty outside the Consulate. 

Ray flopped onto the bed, rubbing his eyes. Last night's headache was back, thudding behind his eyes with a vengeance. Dief looked between the two men, whining miserably, then nudged his head against Fraser's thigh. Fraser arched his neck as though he were listening to something Ray couldn't hear, then shook his head once, sharply. 

"This is your second chance, Benny." Again Ray felt a sense of heavy portent lingering. He got off the bed and moved close once more, ignoring the tension in Fraser's sturdy frame, and laid his hand on one taut shoulder. "Come home." 

"Ray..." Benny's voice was the merest ghost of a whisper. "I can't." Fraser shook off the gentle touch and made for the door, ignoring Diefenbaker's attempt to stay on his heels. 

"The offer stays open, Benny." Ray refused to give up even as Fraser let himself out, blocking Dief with his shoe and closing the door behind him with quiet finality. 

The wolf sat back on his heels and howled. 

"You said it." Ray slumped onto the bed again and stared up at the plaster ceiling. 

He hadn't even had a chance to ask where Victoria went during the game. That mystery nagged at him mercilessly. She was up to something. Maybe more than Fraser knew. Maybe? Hell. Definitely. She was devious and paranoid and viciously, cruelly clever. 

OK, fine. Assume Benny didn't know what was going on there. A safe bet; otherwise she wouldn't have waited to do it while he was occupied. She'd been gone maybe half an hour, so whatever it was couldn't have been too far away. Probably somewhere inside the hotel. Edwards had a room in the hotel; maybe she was pulling something over on him and not Benny at all. But that didn't ring true either. She and Edwards were thick as thieves. 

Ray shut his eyes and ran through the events before she left the game. Watching Tom be affectionate with Fraser, angling for a better view of Tom touching him, her purse in her hand. That little satisfied curl of her lip. Talking to Fraser and slipping out. Clutching her purse before they ever entered the casino. That purse visible as she zeroed in on Tom and Benny. Holding it just so. A fat evening bag, constantly in her slim-fingered hands. He'd never seen her open it. 

Ray's eyes flew open. *Sonofabitch. It wasn't a gun in there after all.* 

"Damn it, Benny." Surely Fraser couldn't know. 

Ray flung himself off the bed and into the bathroom for a few quick preparations, then rushed down into the bar. 

It was after noon, and the bartender was there, the same one Ray had spoken to on his first night at the Bellagio. He calmed himself and gave a friendly grin, then bellied up to the bar. "I'm a private kinda guy, you know that, don't you?" Polite agreement. "I haven't been able to find a chance to talk to my friend alone." He palmed his wallet casually, flipping through bills till he found the receipt he'd prepared. It looked innocent, perfectly suitable for scrap paper. "You suppose you could leave a note under his door for me? I don't know which room is his." 

"Certainly, sir." The barkeep was practically salivating. Ray scribbled a few meaningless phrases on his receipt and tucked it inside a fifty. The barkeep whipped off his apron and headed out. Ray casually sauntered back to the elevator and rode up to his room. 

"Okay, Diefenbaker." Ray pulled out his cologne and opened the cap. "You smell that? I just put that on a piece of paper and had it delivered to Benny's room. I need you to find it for me. You gonna do that? Find me a room that smells like this and Benny." 

The wolf whuffed at him, tail wagging. Ray opened his door and Diefenbaker took off like a shot. 

*How about that. Damned wolf _can_ read lips. When he wants to.* Ray trotted after him, watching the wolf sniff and dismiss each door. Up one floor, then another... a maid's cart in the hall, and a feminine shriek through an open door, then Dief was trotting back to him with the note in his mouth. 

"Good boy!" Ray couldn't have timed it better. Smirking, he stepped around the cart and into the room. He pulled out his badge and flipped it at the frightened maid, too quickly for her to read that he was out of his jurisdiction. 

"I need to conduct a search of this area," he told her brusquely. She was Asian and didn't seem to understand much of what he said, her brow pinching in a confused frown. "Got a warrant to investigate suspicious activities in here. Possible theft and fraud. Nothing to do with the hotel. I'll be done before you can say Chairman Mao," Ray rattled, rapid-fire. He was already looking. 

She hadn't stripped the bed yet; it was badly tumbled. Ray tried to breathe shallowly, but he could still smell sex. Dief sniffed around, whimpering. 

Oh yeah, right there behind a discolored spot in the mirror. Recessed into the sheet-rock he found a nice compact surveillance camera with an automatic timer. Ray bet every bit of the film was exposed. He pocketed it and kept looking. There was a bug in a hollow bored in the base of the bedside lamp. 

"You done good, Dief." Ray briskly took the bug out of its hidey-hole. "Let's go get this film developed." He smiled at the round-eyed maid. "Thanks." 

* * *

There were any number of one-hour film developing kiosks in the strip malls that sprawled on the outskirts of town. Ray accepted the fat envelope with his pictures and the negatives from a bored clerk. He had to make sure what they were, so he opened the envelope and pulled out a picture from the middle of the stack. 

_Holy shit._

Wincing, Ray shoved it back into the pile. 

"They OK?" The clerk, who'd probably done the developing herself, smirked at him. 

"They're what I expected," Ray snapped. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out in his room, knowing Benny wouldn't be coming back to accept his offer. He called the station and talked to Welsh, sketching out a few details of what was going down just to cover his ass in case something bad happened. Room service brought his supper at six and he shared with Dief, half-watching a lesson in winning at draw poker on the hotel's closed-circuit TV channel. 

Around eleven-thirty he headed downstairs, once again leaving Dief behind in the room for safety. He cashed all his money in for chips and loaded his pockets, joining the line into the private salle. They honored yesterday's invitation card, which was a little surprising, but he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. He just wished he had a better plan than losing his money while making cow-eyes at Benny and hoping he'd have a change of heart. 

Ray slouched in his seat, trying not to be obvious about watching for Fraser to arrive, but he was disappointed. Neither Fraser nor Victoria showed, even when Tom walked in. Tom gave Ray an austere look in contrast to Edwards' hate-filled one. Yeah. The pictures. That just proved Edwards and Victoria were in cahoots. They had to know Ray was the one who took the camera. 

The table filled, and the dealer announced five-card draw. Tonight the ante was two hundred dollars, which made Ray wince. Edwards smiled cruelly, his eyes intent with purpose, and Ray understood he was the first target of the evening. 

Ray tossed in his ante and took the cards he was dealt. Pair of nines, not very good. He asked for three and got no help, so he folded, reluctantly kissing his money goodbye. 

The next two hands he folded early on a runt, staring down at his cards impassively and wondering where lady luck was sitting. In the showdown of hand four, Tom's full house beat his three jacks, bringing his losses to a tidy ten thousand. Obviously wherever lady luck was, she wasn't with Ray Vecchio. Par for the course. 

He was holding four spades and a pair of eights in the next hand and debating whether to pass or ante up and what to draw if he did when a hand fell on his shoulder. 

"Excuse me, sir. I believe you have my seat." 

Ray blinked up into Benny's impassive face and threw in his hand. His mind raced, calculating odds on a much worse gamble than the one he'd just been considering. He wondered what had made Fraser change his mind... or whether he really had. 

Victoria appeared in the door of the salle just as he threw in his hand. She was gasping for breath, hair mussed from running, and she looked furious. He glanced back at the table. 

The hell with it. 

Ray reached into his breast pocket and drew out the fat envelope of pictures. "Got something for you. I think your lady friend misplaced her camera." He tucked the packet of pictures into Fraser's hand, watching as Fraser unsealed the gummed flap and peered inside, flipping through the prints. Benny's expression didn't flicker. 

"Sorry about taking your seat." Ray stood up gracefully. "Just keeping it warm for you." He yielded the seat to Fraser and bent to whisper in his ear. "I trust you, Benny." His hand slid over Fraser's shoulder. Trust. Foolish, blind trust. 

Now everything depended on Fraser. 

"Benedict," Edwards ground out between clenched teeth, studying Fraser carefully. The other players watched, confused and impatient. 

"Martin." Benny nodded politely at the dealer and cards began to slide across the green baize, coming to rest in neat rows in front of each player. 

Ray held his breath as Benny turned his cards up and examined them, then anted up. The last time he'd played poker with Benny, the man couldn't even remember the names of the hands. But his instincts at reading people were nothing short of uncanny when he wanted to use them, and he had the advantage of knowing both Edwards and Tom far better than Ray did. Which might or might not be of use, depending on what the fuck he was doing. 

Ray stood next to Victoria, alternating between glaring at her to make sure she didn't try anything and hyperventilating. Benny lost slowly but steadily, pulling chips out of his deep pockets each time and making the next ante. Ray didn't know if Fraser himself could tell what impulse had brought him here to play when all he was going to do was check his cards, draw, and fold. 

And then Benny started to raise. 

Strategy! Ray's grin broke out all over his face. Playing clumsy on purpose, psyching Edwards out. Tom folded and Edwards stayed; Benny lost at the showdown. Ray hiccuped as the $8,000 pot changed hands, but the very next hand Benny raised again-- and this time he won. Tom stayed in till the bitter end, and Benny took a pot of over $11,000 with two pair. 

Victoria fidgeted, stepping up behind Benny and letting her nails dig into the shoulder pads of his tux. Benny remained impassive, holding his cards close to his sternum and not letting her see. 

Ray felt himself start to breathe again, a strangely giddy feeling rolling in his belly. _Benny._

"Get away from the man and let him play," he told Victoria sharply, stepping into her space and forcing her aside. She shot Ray a look that could have vaporized steel in terms of sheer hate, but she stepped away, moving behind Edwards to glower at Benny, her face working, shifting between reproach and rage. 

Somewhere, sometime, Benton Fraser had learned to play poker, and his luck was in. The game continued in earnest, and Ray watched with growing elation as Fraser proceeded to read Edwards like a book. Every bluff, every hand... as though he could see Edwards' cards better than his own. Tom backed off, watching Edwards with interest as he floundered and struggled in the face of Fraser's relentless attack. 

And then, sometime around four AM came a hand that nobody seemed willing to fold. Ray felt his stomach tighten as the pot grew. Edwards made the final raise in a maximum, his eyes amused. Fraser's turn came; he sat quite still, a muscle in his cheek twitching briefly. 

"What's wrong, Benny?" Ray leaned in, his whisper urgent, and looked at the small pile of chips Fraser had left after meeting the previous bets. The showdown was imminent, but this was it. Six thousand dollars, the end of Fraser's capital. Not enough to make the last ten grand raise. Tom was trying to buy the pot. 

Ray fumbled in his pocket urgently and spilled chips inside the curve of Fraser's arm: the five grand he had left from the money Fraser had earned with his body and sent to Ray to pay his mortgage. He leaned in so close that his nose touched Fraser's hair. "Clean him out, Benny." He smelled Fraser's soap and his sweat and his after-shave. Anticipation mingled with a rush of love and fear in Ray's stomach; this was it. The moment of truth. If Fraser didn't win, he was busted. If Fraser won... no telling what he'd do. 

Edwards' jaw clenched and Ray could almost hear his teeth grinding. He turned his hand over, displaying a full house: fours and sixes. Benny turned his cards over in turn and Ray's heart sang. A straight flush, ten high. 

Tom threw in his hand, not looking particularly disgusted, his eyes on Edwards. Quietly Edwards sat back and fumbled for a cigarette. The dealer pushed the gigantic pot toward Benny's outstretched arms. Over two hundred thousand dollars. Jesus and Mary. 

Ray tried to guesstimate the chips still in Edwards' pockets by the way his jacket hung from his slumped shoulders. Victoria proved more informative as she began edging away, white-faced. That was it, then, they didn't have much more. 

Benny reached and took the envelope of pictures out of his jacket, then tossed them to Tom. "There is a cassette, as well." He pushed it across the table to Tom, who opened the packet and looked inside, face tightening. "I assure you, Tom, I had no knowledge of this until today. I believed our business was transacted in good faith." 

Benny took the next hand, with Tom never bothering to ante up as he stashed the tape and the photos deep in his jacket. 

Edwards pushed his chair back and left the table with unseemly haste, vanishing through the staff entrance even before Victoria slipped out into the casino. Benny's eyes followed her retreat, dark with anguish. 

"I believe I'll cash in," Tom announced lazily, nodding to Benny politely. "Well-played, Benedict." He rose and bowed. "I appreciate your candor." 

"Wait." Fraser stood; Ray realized he was shaking. He began pushing blue hundred-dollar chips into a pile, counting silently to himself. "That's what you've paid me, Tom. I'd be honored if you would accept it back." Fraser scooped the rest of the chips together, but made no move to pocket them. "Ray, that should more than cover your mortgage." He stepped back from the table politely, leaving a small fortune waiting there. 

"Get your winnings, Benny." Ray spoke quietly, gripped by a terrible sinking fear that Fraser was about to slip from his fingers. 

A commotion distracted them before Benny could speak, and Ray turned to find Victoria running toward them. Her nails were red; she'd scratched hell out of somebody. The doorman stopped a large man who was close behind her, politely requesting his ticket. Ray noticed that he was wringing his left hand around his right wrist. He looked tough and ugly. 

"Protect me!" she demanded breathlessly, "It's the fucking mob, Vecchio, they want their goddamned money. You knew about them, didn't you." Her voice shook with terror and rage. "I want police protection." She glared needles between him and Benny. "You fucking bastard!" Victoria spat at Fraser. "You set me up." 

Fraser shook his head quietly. "I had no part in the wagers, Victoria." Something steely and dark appeared in his eyes as he looked up and met her gaze squarely. "You set _me_ up. How many men did you blackmail with photographs of me? How much money did you extort from them? And you lost it gambling." 

She shook her head. "It was Martin, not me. Martin planted the--" 

"Shut up, Victoria." Fraser's voice shook. "You know you did it. It doesn't matter that Martin helped you. How long have the two of you been laughing while I--" his lips shook and he turned away. 

"What do you think, Benny?" Ray asked quietly. "You want me to cuff her?" 

"Yes." Fraser nodded slowly. "Do it, Ray." 

"Fraser!" Victoria tried again, eyes large and liquid, but he didn't turn to look. 

Ray nodded. "Sorry, doll. Looks like the State of Illinois wants to press charges." He showed his teeth insincerely, indifferent to the terror in her eyes. Maybe this was a way to keep his promise after all. 

"It's over, Victoria." Benny spoke slowly, pain in his voice. 

She stiffened, her beauty fading completely behind the ugliness in her eyes. "I hate you, Benton Fraser." 

"I know." Fraser's voice failed. His eyes dropped to the carpet. 

"Victoria Metcalfe, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent." Ray reached into his pocket fishing out his cuffs from amidst the few poker chips that lay there. 

Fraser's eyes glimmered as he looked at Victoria, filling with bright wetness. His lips began to move, chanting in unison with the Miranda. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney--" 

Ray's mouth continued to speak but he lost the train of the familiar words, frozen by the pain and resolve that showed on Benny's face. He kept looking even when the Vegas cops arrived and led Victoria out the staff entry after examining Ray's credentials. 

"Come on, Benny," Ray finally ventured. The room had nearly emptied around them. "You did the right thing. It was the only thing you _could_ do. If you'd let her walk, the mob would have killed her. Let's get your money. We're going home." 

Benny followed him quietly, nearly as meekly as he'd followed Victoria before. Concerned, Ray made a note of it, resolving to keep an eye out for troubling behavior and address it as soon as he could. Provided he was given the opportunity. 

The casino bosses eyed them as they headed upstairs, and Ray was not surprised to find a bellboy intercepting them in the hallway with complimentary champagne, which he refused after a brief glance at Fraser. They accepted the offer of room service on the house instead, and Ray asked for a second bathrobe for Fraser to use before unlocking the door and steering his friend inside. 

Benny looked numb, his dark blue eyes lusterless, his skin pale. There was something childlike and wounded in his expression, making him look impossibly young. Dief thumped against his leg, whimpering with worry and joy, then jumped up into Fraser's lap as he slumped into a convenient easy chair. 

Fraser stared around the room vaguely, his eyes focused on the middle distance. "I turned her in again, Ray." He sounded utterly lost. 

Ray moved and sat on the arm of the chair. "I know, Benny. You had to." He laid a hand on Fraser's shoulder, wishing he had more to offer by way of comfort. "Room service is coming. You want to get a shower? The food and the robe I ordered should be here by the time you get out." Feed the body and you feed the soul, his Ma always said. 

He listened carefully while Fraser showered, not letting himself think the words "suicide watch." This was Benton Fraser; he'd made the crucial decision to reclaim his future by reaching and fumbling to grasp the thread of his duty tonight. Benny was the strongest and best man Ray had ever known. It might take awhile, but he was going to be all right. He had to be. 

Room service arrived and Benny wandered out shortly thereafter in his towel. Ray winced at the sight of mottled purple suck-marks scattered on the pale flesh. He handed Benny his robe and averted his eyes as he slipped it on and discarded the damp towel. 

Ray served them both portions of excellent chicken cacciatore and spinach salad with wine. He wound up giving most of his own meal to Dief, whose appetite had revived miraculously with Fraser's return. Fraser picked at his food, eating mostly to please Ray. 

"You get the bed," Ray decreed, the thought fleeting through the back of his mind that the hotel staff knew Benny'd been escorting johns and probably assumed they were together in a similar capacity. 

"I won't take your bed, Ray." There it was, the first hint of the old Fraser steel beneath the listlessness. Pity it was showing up in self-sacrifice. 

"You're ready to drop and I'm too wired to sleep if I lie there for the next two days," Ray informed him tartly. "Take the bed, Benny." Dief seemed to agree, bounding over to the bed and hopping onto the mattress, staying well to one side. "See? He agrees with me. You know better than to argue with the wolf, am I right?" 

Benny shook his head and dropped his fork on his plate. "This once." Exhaustion made him look haggard. "Ray..." 

"It can wait, Benny." Ray moved the tray and fussed over Fraser as he readied himself for bed. He flushed and looked away as Benny slipped out of his robe and climbed naked between the sheets, not wanting to see any of the marks on the pale skin. 

"It's gonna be all right." The simple words felt like a covenant. Ray perched with a hip on the mattress, and failed to resist the urge to tuck the covers tighter around Fraser's shoulders. Benny's breathing evened almost immediately, a measure of peace spreading on his face as sleep took him. Dief curled into a tight ball in the crook of Fraser's side, and Ray smiled a little as Fraser's arm automatically slid over to cradle his wolf. 

"Sleep tight," Ray murmured, childhood memories overtaking him with unexpected tenderness. He leaned forward awkwardly, brushing his lips against Fraser's forehead. Fraser sighed and settled. Suddenly reluctant to move away from his friend, Ray shed his jacket and tossed it over the straight chair at the dressing table, then shifted himself to prop against the headboard, pulling the tail of the comforter over his legs. 

With a sigh, he sat back to await the dawn. 

* * *

End


End file.
